


Hayloft

by IWriteSinsNotStraightLines



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Pack Feels, Stiles Stilinski Needs a Nap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:53:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28131207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IWriteSinsNotStraightLines/pseuds/IWriteSinsNotStraightLines
Summary: “What?”Derek raised an eyebrow at him, “Did you get any sleep last night?”“Would it make you all feel better if I said yes?”
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 14
Kudos: 309





	Hayloft

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, everyone! I'm back, with more random, pointless fluff. And sleep-deprived Stiles, because why not?  
> Hope you all enjoy, and are doing well!  
> The title comes from “Hayloft” by Mother Mother.

Stiles frowned, numbly tracing his fingers over the edge of the table. 

He was trying his best to pay attention to the pack meeting- certain that it was important and quite possibly needed his input- but it wasn’t going well. He was exhausted, he wasn’t focused, and it was becoming more and more difficult to actually listen to what Derek was saying. 

“ _Stiles_.” 

He jerked up, smacking his elbow against the table and wincing at the loud noise it made. A biting ache exploded out from the point of impact, and he made a face at what he _knew_ was going to be a bruise later. 

He met the many eyes of the pack, smiling sheepishly. 

“What?” 

Derek raised an eyebrow at him, “Did you get _any_ sleep last night?” 

“Would it make you all feel better if I said yes?” 

He could _feel_ Lydia and Peter’s piercing glares burn into the side of his skull, the gentle frown from Boyd, the suffocating concern from Isaac, Allison, Scott and Erica, the sharp curiosity from Jackson, the worry from Derek. 

“I’m _fine_ ,” he said, stubborn. “Go back to what we were talking about.” 

“Mm, I think not,” Peter’s voice was sure and cool as he rose, smoothing out his jeans. “I’m going to take him home. Lydia, dear, would you type up a summary of what we’ve been talking about it and send it to him? I’m sure he digested absolutely none of it.” 

Lydia nodded, giving Boyd a smile when he offered to help. 

Stiles spluttered, “I don’t need to _leave_ , or have notes taken for me like we’re in middle school! I’m _fine_!” 

Scott frowned, shaking his head as he offered a soft “Dude, you don’t _look_ fine,” at the same time as Derek straightened his spine and crossed his arms with a scowl. 

He softened when he actually looked at Stiles, but his voice still came out firm, “Let him take you home, Stiles. Get some sleep. We’ll keep you in the loop.” 

Stiles glared at him- a staring contest that he quickly lost under the fierceness of Derek’s expression and flaring alpha eyes- but relented, sighing and gathering his bag. 

Peter took it from him, slinging it over his shoulder and snatching his keys from his pocket. Stiles waved his goodbyes to the pack, and let him interlace their fingers as he tugged him outside. 

He grumbled disapprovingly when Stiles tried to get in the car on his own. He rolled his eyes at Peter’s antics, but allowed him to open his door and help him into the Jeep like he needed it. 

Peter tossed his bag in the back, smoothly sliding into the driver’s seat. He checked over Stiles once more before carding his fingers once through his hair- leaving him stretching and purring like a cat- and pulling out of the loft’s lot. 

“Is your father on shift tonight?” he asked. 

“Mhm,” Stiles murmured, half-asleep already with the comforting rumble of the Jeep below him and the warm weight of Peter’s palm on his thigh between changing gears. 

He opened his eyes more to see Peter leave the route to his house, instead turning and heading deeper into the more urban part of Beacon Hills. 

“Where’re we going?” he asked. 

“My apartment. I want to make sure you actually rest.” 

“‘M not _five_ , Peter. I don’t need a keeper.” 

“Oh, darling, I _know_ you’re not five,” He smirked. Stiles rolled his eyes. “But I’m going to have to disagree with you on the keeper part. In fact, I volunteer.” 

“Ass,” Stiles muttered petulantly, but smiled a little when Peter only squeezed his thigh and chuckled in amusement. 

He parked the Jeep outside of his complex- Stiles snickered to himself at how out of place it looked among the fancy, expensive cars Peter’s neighbors drove- and actually let him get out on his own, his brows knitting together when he stumbled over his own feet. 

Peter slid a possessive arm around his hips, tugging him into his side and keeping him there the entire way up to his apartment, glaring at anyone who even spared them a glance. 

He relaxed only after he’d locked the door behind them, and released Stiles so he could slide off his shoes at the door and collapse onto the couch. 

He breathed in the smell of _Peter_ and _Peter’s cologne_ from the cushions, murmuring unhappily when he was forced up into sitting again. “I thought you wanted me to sleep,” he said. 

“I want you to _rest_. Comfortably. Not still fully dressed in your jeans and passed out face-down on my sofa.” 

“The sofa _is_ comfortable.” 

“Not when you have a _bed_ the next room over, Stiles.” 

He grumbled, but dutifully followed Peter when he motioned him to, padding softly across the tiled floors. 

Peter pushed the door to his bedroom open, and went to dig a pair of his pajama bottoms and a t-shirt from his dresser, handing them to Stiles. 

He held them up to his nose for a second- don’t judge him, the detergent Peter used smelled _good_ \- and moved on to the bathroom, changing and brushing his teeth. He didn’t really know when he’d gotten his own toothbrush, his own side of the bed, his own _space_ within Peter’s world, but he was too tired to think about it all that hard. 

He walked back out to plug his phone in by the bed, leaving it behind on the nightstand and making his way back out into the living room to find his boyfriend. 

Peter was- predictably- in the kitchen, pouring glasses of water. Stiles wrapped his arms around his chest from behind him, pressing his cheek in between his shoulder blades. 

His answering rumble was quiet and comforting, making him smile. 

He only released him when Peter tugged insistently on his hands and handed him one of the cups, watching critically as he drained it before drinking his own. 

“Mother hen,” Stiles teased, setting his empty glass in the sink. 

Peter huffed, rolling his eyes. “I wouldn’t have to mother you if you would just _take care of yourself_.” 

He shrugged, “I’m not dead, am I? Just a little sleep-deprived is all.” 

“There’s no such thing as a _little_ sleep-deprived. You shouldn’t be sleep-deprived at all, Stiles.” 

“Semantics,” Stiles said, grinning at the incredulous look on Peter’s face. “C’mon, creeper, let’s go to bed.”

Peter huffed at him, but allowed him to drag him back into his bedroom by his wrist. Stiles let him go and launched himself into his unfairly comfortable bed, burrowing under the blankets. 

He graciously ignored Peter’s snort, and snuggled back into him when he followed him into bed after shutting off the light, wrapping an arm around his middle. 

And maybe he had a point about the whole sleep-deprived thing, because it couldn’t have been any longer than five minutes before his eyes were sliding shut and he was out.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is always appreciated! Let me know what ya'll think! 
> 
> Until next time,  
> \- Sins 
> 
> Find my Tumblr at: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/iwritesinsnotstraightlines


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